


Behind The Closed Door

by GarcysFlereal



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Garcy don't want to have feelings for each other but they do, GarcyYet, Happy GarcyYet Day!!!, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut, Spanking, garcy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19016833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarcysFlereal/pseuds/GarcysFlereal
Summary: What kind of connection can Garcia and Lucy make after he's kidnapped her, intending to drag her back in time with him to Chicago 1893? (missing scene for 111 “The World’s Columbian Exposition”)





	Behind The Closed Door

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 1 year anniversary, GarcyYet!!! <\--- and the 207 “Smitten Kitten” Garcy deleted scene!!! This story is a GarcyYet origin story, and I think that just about says everything you need to know about the content you are about to read. Kudos and comments fuel my muse! I don’t reply to comments often (if at all), but I do read them all and I want to thank each and every one of you. Your feedback on my stories always makes my day.
> 
> A HUGE thank you!!! to Burgundy_In_Chaucer for being my second eye and catching the booboos and the whoopsies in the story before it made its way to your screens.
> 
> Enjoy the story!

“I’ll tell you what happened. I went back to that damn compound to fix the mess you made, to kill Rittenhouse and his son. I never got even close. I didn’t have Benedict Arnold to get me through the door. Even my semiautomatics were nothing against fifty muskets. So, my family is still dead. And Rittenhouse survived. And it’s your fault.” Garcia Flynn glares at Lucy half with blame and half with his goddamn heart struggling not to forgive her.

“I told you, they had other followers. We don’t know if killing that boy would’ve changed anything.”

“It could have changed everything!” He shouts at her and then he pauses to calm himself down. He doesn’t want to frighten her or make her stay with him any less comfortable than it already is. “Ok. So, we’ll just find that brat when he’s a few years older. So, where is he? Where is John Rittenhouse?”

“I don’t know.” She tells him.

“Well, then find him.”

“There’s no record of him anywhere. You shot his father! You tried to kill him. I’m sure he went deep underground. He changed his name.”

“So, this was our only shot. All this would have been over.” The anger has returned to his voice and he looks at his man, Derek, standing behind Lucy and motions to him to get her to follow him. He looks down at Lucy. “Just get up.”

“No. Wait, wait. Where are you taking me?” Lucy asks, her heart racing. She doesn’t think that he’s going to hurt her or kill her, but he seems unhinged and unpredictable. She’s scared.

“I wanted to do this the easy way. But you left me no choice. So, now I’m going to take down Rittenhouse one member at a time. So, for as long as it takes.”

Flynn’s henchman is rough with her, keeping a firm hold on her arm as he pushes her down the hallway toward a room in the back of this abandoned church. They’re following Flynn who angrily removes his coat and throws it on the hallway floor. Lucy sees that his shoulder has been grazed by a bullet of a musket.

The white sleeve of his shirt is torn and is stained with his blood. Lucy damns her natural instinct to want to tend to his wound. She should be hoping he bleeds to death so that all of this will end.

Flynn enters an empty room that is filled with clothing from different periods in time. Most are from previous jumps he’s made in time, some from eras they’ve not been. Lucy’s surprised and angered that he’s been stockpiling not only men’s fashion, but women’s as well. She’ll wait until later to wonder when and how he was able to get these articles of clothing when the Lifeboat hadn’t detected any jump in time from the Mothership.

She sees several beautiful dresses and women’s undergarments from the early twentieth century. Women’s shoes from the 1940s… a Civil War era dress and bonnet… and a gorgeous burgundy dress that looks to be from the late nineteenth century. Her face flushes red with anger. Had he been planning on kidnapping her from the very beginning?

“Leave.” Flynn says.

“Are you serious?” She asks in disbelief.

Garcia turns around and looks at Derek, indicating he wants him to leave.

Derek nods his head and pushes Lucy hard toward Flynn, she nearly loses her balance and has to grab onto his injured arm to steady herself. Flynn looks down at her as Derek leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Lucy looks up at her enemy, her opponent in this war through time. His eyes soften as he looks down at her. Not wanting to feel sympathy for this bastard, she pushes him away from her and takes a few steps back, not daring to turn her back to him.

“You son-of-a-bitch.” She says.

She looks around the room. There are storage crates all around the room. One of the crates is open and she sees that it’s filled with money. Monetary notes from different periods in time and other countries as well.

“We don’t have showers so you just have to…” he gestures toward a sink at the back of the room, “… I have hand towels you can use to… wipe down.” Flynn says with anger still lingering in his voice.

“You have to let me go.” She says, licking her lips and taking a couple steps toward him. “You can’t just keep me as your prisoner.”

“I assure you, I can.”

“And if I don’t cooperate?”

Flynn tilts his head to the side and looks at her as she stands before him wearing only her eighteenth century white chemise and corset – if they were living in the 1780s her appearance would be considered vulgar as she’d be alone in a room – in her undergarments – with a man to whom she’s not wed. Her hands are on her hips. Her hair is a mess and he supposes that Derek gave her something to wipe off all her makeup. Her face is bare, raw, and flushed red with anger. She’s beautiful even when she’s angry and vulnerable.

He feels guilty for bringing her with him back to 2016, but he needs her to travel through time with him. He needs her to see the hold Rittenhouse has on history. He needs for her to understand exactly what they, as a team – and he so badly wants her on his side – are up against. He hates that he had to kidnap her, but it was the only option he had left after she stopped him from killing John Rittenhouse. He had wanted Lucy to willingly join him, to become his teammate. His equal. But things were no longer playing out as she had written in her journal.

He turns his back to her and rummages through the pile of clothing on the nearest table.

He’s angry with himself for allowing the thought of how gorgeous she is au naturel to cross his mind. The journal does say that they get involved, but there’s no way in Hell that he’s going to allow himself to fall in love with her.

No.

And any feelings he might have for her he’s buried deep inside himself and has vowed to never let them surface. Lucy Preston is just the woman who gave him a journal, and he’s using it as a tool against Rittenhouse.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

And he knows he’s lying to himself.

At first all he cared about was using the journal as a tool to take down Rittenhouse. But the more time he spent with it, reading her deepest thoughts, fears, and desires… the more he felt like he knew Lucy, understood her. His heart races as his hands glide across a gorgeous burgundy dress of the late nineteenth century. It’s perfect for where he intends to take her tomorrow after she’s cooled off and got a few hours sleep under her… the Chicago’s World’s Fair in 1893, where Thomas Edison, Henry Ford and J.P. Morgan – all members of Rittenhouse – will meet at 4 o’clock on Tuesday, the 30th of May, for an important meeting.

He hopes that this next trip will be a turning point for their – for lack of a better word – relationship. In the journal, Lucy wrote that they would become quite the team and together they would stop Rittenhouse. In the journal, Rittenhouse had been defeated and Lucy had to ensure that outcome by going back to São Paolo in 2014 to give him the journal. As far as he understood, time and history were on this constant loop. That everything was destined to happen exactly as she had written, but… but the day came and Lucy didn’t help him destroy Rittenhouse and now… everything he thought he understood about how time travel works has crumbled around him.

He’s lost now.

He is forced to improvise.

And if Lucy isn’t going to join him that means that he is on his own.

He turns around as he hears water running from the faucet. Lucy is standing with her back to him, wiping down her neck with a washcloth. She tilts her head to the side and closes her eyes as she rubs the wet towel behind her neck and then slowly down her arm. He swallows hard as her hand disappears in front of herself. He knows that she’s cleaning off the front of her chest, not below her corset but just above it. He imagines the towel running over her collarbone and up the other side of her neck, just behind her ear. He eyes the back of her white corset. The bow at its base looks like a sailor’s knot rather than an easy-to-untie bow.

She might need help untying it.

He doesn’t dare move as he’s become aware of the tightness between his legs. One of his goddamn fantasies has been to undress a woman from her corset. To do so while staring into her eyes in the reflection of a mirror. To feel her arm wrap around his neck as he nibbles on her ear as he slowly loosens the lacing of her corset and drops it to the floor as he fills his hands with her soft breasts-

“Your arm is hurt.” Lucy says, approaching him with the wet towel in hand.

“So?” He swallows hard and prays that she doesn’t notice that he’s visualized himself to arousal.

“So… maybe you should clean it so it doesn’t get infected.” She tells him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to kill me, Lucy? Not tend to my damn wounds?” He snarls at her, snatching the wet towel from her hand and placing it on his left shoulder over the wound. It stings. He looks at her with a furrowed brow. “This isn’t water.”

“No, I wet the towel with rubbing alcohol.” She tells him as she reaches up and unties his black cravat and throws it to the ground.

Lucy’s heart stops when she sees that he’s aroused. She refuses to look up at him as she fumbles with the buttons of his burgundy vest, unable to take her eyes off of his erection. It both thrills her and angers her that he finds her state of late eighteenth century undress arousing.

She angrily pulls the vest down over his shoulders, causing him to drop the damp towel to the ground. It takes all her self-control to not press her lips to his shoulder and kiss him. She’s angry with him but all she can think about now is what it would feel like to feel him pressed against her body. To spin her around and press her against the brick wall of this abandoned church. For him to free her from this constricting corset and to grasp at her body with desperation. She wants to feel his body pressed against hers. To feel him thrust against her as her body comes closer and closer to the edge… She looks up into his eyes as she tugs at the base of his shirt and lifts it up over his head, dropping it to the floor next to them.

He says nothing.

He only watches her.

His eyes fixated on her every motion… her every touch.

Lucy’s eyes fall on the scar on his right shoulder from where Wyatt shot him at the Hindenburg. She reaches out and touches it and he flinches, not used to being touched by anyone other than himself. She goes up on her toes and places a tender kiss on the scar as she runs her fingertips across his greying chest hair. She looks up at him for consent and he’s not objecting. She kisses his chest as she rolls his nipple between her fingers. He lets out a low, vibrating groan from the depths of his throat.

“Lucy…” His voice is soft as he struggles to tell himself that they can’t do this.

_How much do I hate myself to deny us this pleasure?_

He grabs her wrist as she dips her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. He looks down at her and their eyes meet. Her eyes are dark, dilated and she’s regarding him with desire. And God, he can’t stop himself. He hasn’t felt… _this_ … in so long. She steps away from him. He grabs her and she lets out a small squeak in reaction to feeling his strong hold on her. He guides her only a few steps across the room, towards the wall.

Lucy places her hands against the cold bricks as she turns her head to look back at him. His hands slowly run down the middle of her back, dragging his fingertips over the laces of her corset. His hands rest on her hips and she feels his breath hot on her neck. There’s a throbbing ache between her legs as she prays that he reaches around, lifts up her chemise and strokes her. But he doesn’t do that. His lips gently press against the base of her neck over and over again. His hand wraps around her waist and rests on her abdomen, pressing her back into his bare chest. She leans her arms against the wall and exhales as his hands grope her breasts, squeezing them. His fingers search for her nipples but they are concealed well beneath her corset.

She turns around to face him. They stare into each other’s eyes both needing to know if this is really what the other wants. His hand rests against her lower back and he pulls her against him, pressing her cleavage against his chest. She gasps at his strength and runs her hands across his chest.

“Flynn…” She purrs.

Her lips are on his chest again. Kissing him. Her fingers gently claw at his skin. She’s hungry for him. She wants every inch of him to belong to her. She purses her lips around his nipple – gently sucking and flicking her tongue over it. When he holds the back of her head in his hand, pressing her mouth harder against him, that’s when she knows that in this moment… he has relinquished all control to her. He moans as she plants soft kisses as she makes her way to his other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the other.

They shouldn’t be doing this.

He shouldn’t want her like this.

But he does.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he does.

And she wants him too.

He’s unintentionally rough with her as he turns her around so her back presses against him. He firmly places one hand on her abdomen. He leans down and kisses the back of her neck. She tilts her head to the side to give him easier access to her skin. He imagines that she’s closed her eyes, and he isn’t wrong. He works to loosen the laces of her corset. He works as quickly as he can to release the tension from the garment. He’s rough as he unties it and metal eyelets fall to the ground. He takes her earlobe between his lips and sucks and nibbles on it. He thinks he hears her whimper his name.

“Lucy…” He growls.

He’s impatient and in his haste to properly unlace the garment, it breaks. He rips it from her body and throws it to the ground. She turns to him and curls her fingers around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers. His heart pounds as he opens his mouth to her. He isn’t supposed to feel this way for her. But even in São Paolo, he found her beautiful. Even in São Paolo he sensed an energy between them that even in his state of grief he couldn’t deny. Even reading their story in her journal wasn’t enough to convince him that he could ever…

Lucy gasps into his mouth as he roughly cups her breast over her chemise, teasing and pinching at her erect nipple. He turns her around again, trying hard not to look into her eyes. He presses her back against his chest and rests his other hand at her waist. Lucy is quick to take hold of it, guiding it over her center.

But he does more than that.

He gathers the fabric of her chemise in his hand, lifting it up higher and higher on her thigh until he can slide his hand between her legs. Her panties are wet from her arousal for him which causes his dick to twitch as it’s hit by a rush of blood – straight to his head. He slips his hand beneath the fabric, holding his hand over her wet center. He presses the base of his palm firmly over her clit and moves against her slowly.

Lucy lets out a cry and her body shivers. She bends forward at the waist, pressing her ass into him, feeling his erection against her body. He kisses her exposed shoulder and moans her name. He continues rubbing her slowly. He doesn’t want to press too hard or work too quickly so she comes right away. He wants to take his time with her. If this is the only moment they’ll have together he wants to make it…

“Flynn…” She pants his name as her hips move against his hand. She’s over-stimulated and needs for him to slow down if this is going to last longer than the next few seconds. “Stop.” She orders him, breathless.

_Fuck._

Immediately, he removes his hands from her. He does his best to pass his disappointment off as anger.

“Then I’ll let you be.” He growls and starts to walk away.

“No!”

Lucy runs after him before he can open the door and leave her.

She wraps both arms around his waist and rests her head on his back.

“Don’t go.” She tells him.

“Why does it matter to you if I go or not?” He asks, his voice a whisper. He closes his eyes and thinks back on that Christmas Eve in São Paolo…

_The world will think that you’re a terrorist and a traitor… even I’m going to think that at first… but you aren’t any of those things. And you’re going to think that you lost your humanity, but you didn’t, and you never will… you’re a hero. I promise…_

Could it be that Lucy has already begun to see him as a man rather than a monster? Could someone like Lucy Preston come to care for him or even love him? If they do this then… what does it mean?

Garcia closes his eyes as Lucy slides her hand down the front of his pants and takes his erection and strokes him with every intent to finish what they started. He places his hands on the door in front of him to steady himself as Lucy’s hand works him from his head to base. Her fingers are firm against his skin and the longer she works him, the more he wants to pick her up and carry her in his arms over to his mattress on the floor behind them and have his way with her.

He wants to know what it’d be like to peel that damn chemise from her and worship her naked body with his mouth. He wants to feel her muscles contract around him as she comes. He wants to hear her cry out his name not because she is angry with him, but because he’s given her several rounds of unimaginable pleasure. He’d give anything in this world to hear her moan his name, not “Flynn,” but “Garcia.”

He groans deep in his throat as he feels her thumb circle over the head of his dick, spreading pre-cum on her hand for more lubrication. He lets out a soft cry and takes short breaths to try to fight the urge to come in her hand. He breathes deep to control his arousal.

“Lucy…” His voice reflects his vulnerability, his willingness to let her take control of him. He’s been in control of everything in his life for the past two years. He wants to trust someone else to take care of him. He wants to trust Lucy. “Slow down… or… I’m…” Lucy slows her pace and slides her hand to the base of his dick, gently fingering his balls. His body involuntarily shudders.

He’s intoxicated by her touch.

He hasn’t felt this alive for so long.

But he’s still angry with her for fucking everything up in 1780. But she’s let her guard down and he’s done the same for her. She’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with him. To trust him. He knows that if he says or does the wrong thing that he can easily break her fragile trust.

He can’t fuck that up.

He takes hold of her chin with his fingertips and tilts her head back so she’s looking up at him. The fear that was in her eyes earlier is gone and has been replaced by desire. He wants to kiss her. He wants for her to feel that she means the world to him. That she’s not just an enemy in this war they’ve been fighting. She is the woman who saved his life. The woman that gave his life meaning and goddammit he loves her for it. As much as he tried to convince himself that he could never and would never love her, he does. Good God, he does. And if he can’t express his love to her with words, he wants her to feel it.

“Lift your arms.” He tells her.

Lucy looks him in the eyes and lifts her arms over her head.

Garcia steps toward her and places his hands on her hips. He pulls at her chemise, lifting it up over her, stripping it from her body. He drops it on the floor and looks at Lucy as she lowers her arms. She stands before him wearing only her black panties. He holds her gaze as he reaches down and removes his boots. He stands up and caresses Lucy’s shoulder. He takes hold of her hand and lifts it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. Then he picks her up in his arms and carries her over to his mattress on the other side of the room.

He lowers Lucy onto it and she kneels before him. She trails kisses down his abdomen in desperation as she tugs his pants down his body. She presses her lips against the fabric of his black boxer briefs which conceal the full length of his erection. She reaches behind him and holds onto his ass. He closes his eyes as she strips off his briefs and feels her rub her cheek against his cock as her hands massage his balls. He clenches his jaw and groans her name as she presses a finger against his perineum. Her lips wrap around his head and she moans. Chills ripple through his body, prickling his skin.

He looks down at her as he runs his hands through her hair.

Their eyes make contact.

Her cheeks hollow as she takes more of him in her mouth. She massages his shaft with both hands then tenderly strokes the sensitive underside of his dick with her fingertips. Her tongue swirls around him as he thrusts his hips against her. He swallows hard and his legs are starting to give out. It’s been so long since he’s… since he’s been touched like this. He’s not sure how long he can last and he for damn sure wants to please her before he comes.

“Lucy…”

She responds to him by taking even more of his length into her mouth.

“Lucy…” His voice is strained. He places his hands on her head, weaving his fingers through her hair. He thrusts into her mouth again and again. Her hand strokes his balls and then reaches up between his legs so her forearm presses against his ass, her hand spreads out against his lower back.

Then Lucy pulls away.

He watches as she lies down on the mattress. She slides off her black panties and tosses them to the side. She looks him in the eyes and licks her lips as she spreads her legs for him. Garcia kneels between her legs and lowers himself on top of her. He sturdies himself on one elbow and brushes his knuckles across her forehead. Her skin is glistening with sweat and he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and licks the sweat from her skin.

“I… I don’t… I don’t have any… protection…” He pants. “I can… pull out just before I… or… I won’t penetrate you at all…”

“Mmmmm…” Lucy moans, running her hand through his hair. “It’s ok… I’m… on the pill.” She looks him in the eyes and adds, “clean bill of health… you?”

He nods his head to assure her that he’s clean.

The promise of taking him raw excites her and she arches her back, seeking further contact with his skin. She closes her eyes as he sucks at her collarbone. Her lips part as he sucks hard at the base of her neck.

“Fl…” She can’t even find breath enough to say his name.

He massages her shoulder with his thumb as he sucks at her neck, taking her flesh between his lips and pressing his teeth lightly against her, knowing that he’ll leave a mark.

_Thankfully, that dress should cover that in the morning._

He smiles as he looks at her. Her eyes are closed and she’s enjoying his touch. He slowly runs his hand down the side of her body, resting only momentarily on her hip bone as she tries to lift her hips up so his cock touches her.

“Not yet…” He murmurs into her ear.

Lucy groans in frustration, “Yes, yet…”

She doesn’t make any sense but he understands what she means.

Lucy wants him.

She whimpers as his hand moves from her hip to slide between her legs. His fingers gently caress her clit up and down, then back and forth. He slowly traces the letters of his name around her clit… G… A… R… C… She cries out at the letter C so he repeats it over and over again as her hips buck wildly against him. She’s coming quicker than he expected, but he doesn’t stop. He presses her clit firmly with his finger and then dips lower toward her opening. She groans at his touch. She’s almost there. Her back arches in desperation for release and she gasps. Her fingers dig into his shoulder where she holds him. He winces as her grip is close to his fresh wound but he takes the pain, finds a pleasure in it that sends an electric charge through his body.

He traces the letter C around her clit again and again. And with a sharp breath, Lucy slams her head back against his pillow and rides out the waves of pleasure that he’s bestowed upon her. Her eyes are shut and her mouth is open, but the orgasm is so intense that she can’t facilitate a sound. He presses his fingers hard on her clit and allows her to control the movement of her hips against him.

He trembles as he kisses her neck again. Watching her writhe under his touch is exhilarating. Knowing that he is responsible for the waves of pleasure she’s enjoying brings him a sense of pride. His heart swells knowing that he’s making Lucy feel good.

He works his way down between her breasts as her body settles. He releases the pressure he had on her clit and focuses his attention elsewhere on her body so she can recuperate. He uses his other hand to hold her breast, rolling his thumb over her nipple as she writhes beneath him again. His lips encompass her nipple and he sucks on it, rolling his tongue over it again and again.

His lips don’t leave her body as he lowers himself, sucking and nibbling at her skin until his tongue gently flicks her clit, testing to see if she’s ready for more. And she is… her hands press him against her, holding his mouth on her clit as she starts grinding against him. He opens wide and slides his tongue toward her opening, using his nose to rub against her clit in circular motions. He straightens his tongue and slides it in and out of her in multiple fast thrusts.

“Oh God… Flynn…”

She says his name loudly and feels her fingers pulling at his hair. He looks up and her back is arched and her head rests on his pillow. Her hands massage her breasts, pulling and teasing her own nipples. He circles his tongue around her clit again… C… I… A… F… L… Y… N… she groans deep in her throat… N… C… C… She cries out, and arches her back so much that it is entirely off the mattress.

She’s orgasming again.

He wonders if he should tell her to keep it down. He doesn’t necessarily want his men to know what’s going down between the two of them behind the closed door.

Lucy props herself up on her elbow. She watches him as he eats her out which only makes it that much more erotic. She’s panting and she’s come twice already and she wants to fuck him properly. She reaches out to touch his face, making his eyes connect with hers.

Without a word he knows that she wants him to stop.

He slowly crawls up her body, keeping his lips attached to her skin every inch of the way, biting and nibbling at her delicate skin. She wraps her arms around his neck once they are face-to-face. He sinks into her as he rests his forehead against hers. They’re both out of breath and breathing hard. He knows that if he loses himself in her, that if he gives himself to her completely, that he’ll forfeit any control or sense of power he had over her before tonight. That any fear she had of him will dissolve and his threats will mean nothing because she’ll understand that he could never, and would never hurt her.

She rubs her nose against his and no words are needed.

He strokes her face with his thumb and looks into her eyes. His heart pounds in his chest as his lips touch hers. She opens her mouth to him and kisses him back and a pain he’s never felt before sears through his heart. The pain he feels is from years of turning others away, from keeping his distance, not wanting to let anyone get close to his heart again. It is deeply associated with loss and heartache, and the lie he’s told himself that he never wants to feel for anyone again.

Tears sting his eyes.

He’s crying.

_Fuck._

He did not want her to see him like this.

Lucy’s eyes are soft as she holds his gaze and he doesn’t dare break it. She tenderly takes his lower lip between hers and kisses him gently as she wipes his tears away. She understands. She understands that he’s been alone for so long. She understands that the last woman he made love to was his wife. She understands that being with her would arouse all the emotions he’s fought desperately to keep hidden, out of the light, kept only in the dark.

He’s overwhelmed with the tenderness of her understanding. The way she’s taking care of him, comforting him as he struggles to stop shedding tears. He takes hold of her jaw and takes her mouth again with force. He doesn’t want her to ask him why he cries, he wants to take her mind away from it, he wants to make this about them right now, in this moment.

He does not want to talk about his pain or his grief.

He only wants to focus on her… on them.

If he allows himself to open his heart and reveal his vulnerability, his pain, and the way she makes him feel then there will be no turning back for him. She’ll know without doubt that he loves her.

He reaches between their bodies and strokes her clit again and again, with determination, with a roughness he didn’t use before, and she responds to him – grinding her hips against his hand, grinding harder and harder until she moans his name…

“Flynn…”

Her body convulses as he drives her to another orgasm. Her body shimmers with sweat and he licks it from her nipple. She heaves as he slides two fingers inside of her, wanting to feel her slick muscles contract. He watches her as tears stream down her face. Each orgasm has become more powerful than the previous. He moves his fingers inside her, finding her sweet spot and applies pressure. She groans and writhes under his touch.

She sits up and his fingers slip from her silk folds. She presses her hands on his chest and pushes him onto his back. She straddles him, placing one hand on his chest as she reaches down and guides him into her. She lowers herself onto him, circling her hips as she maneuvers him deeper and deeper into her body. He stretches her opening more than any other lover she’s had and that in itself threatens to send her right over the edge again. She’s so wet that his size doesn’t hurt her and she slowly takes him deeper and deeper. She feels the nerve endings in her clit twitch as her body threatens to come again, but she takes a deep breath and focuses on him. She wants him to feel all of her.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands now that he’s filling her. He wants to touch her breasts and tease her nipples but he’s not sure how much she wants him to touch her. She’s had three orgasms already. He’s not had her before and doesn’t know how much stimulation is too much stimulation for Lucy. He wants her to have all the control. To have her direct him what to do. Because if she has control there’s no way he can do or say anything to fuck this up.

He closes his eyes as her hands massage his chest as she moves on him. His hand slides from her hip and rests on her thigh. He feels her muscles move as she thrusts on him. She’s intentionally squeezing and releasing her muscles around his cock and sweet mother fuck does it feel good. She takes hold of his hands and places them on her breasts. He feels her nipples erect against his palms. He sits up and takes her nipple into his mouth, she cries out his name and holds onto his shoulders as she continues to ride him, grinding on him, fucking him.

_Fuck it._

He reaches between them and rubs her clit hard. She screams and throws her head back. He’s at her neck in an instant, sucking and licking her skin between his kisses. He thrusts against her as best he can from this sitting position and she groans as he slips out of her.

They fall back down on the mattress with Lucy still on top of him. She reaches between them and takes firm hold of his cock. She strokes him one, two, three quick times until he growls her name. She teases his tip over her entrance as he writhes beneath her, wanting to thrust into her as hard as he can. To pound into her. To fuck her into oblivion. He wants to render her speechless.

She leans down and kisses him as she guides him back into her hot satin core. He reaches behind her and holds her ass as she increases the speed of her thrusts against him. His cock slides in and out of her. She squeezes his cock with her muscles as he slides into her, and releases her muscles as he slides out. He’s never… he’s nev… he’s never experienced this before and… fucking God.

He cries out her name and grunts as he slaps her ass. She raises her arms over her head and tilts her head back with her eyes closed as she grinds her hips in circles on him, her body pulling and tugging his throbbing cock in every direction. He feels her muscles contract around him and she lowers herself, hovering above him, her erect nipples teasing his chest hair. She looks him in the eyes as she gets closer and closer to another release. She bites down on her lower lip and closes her eyes, distorting her face.

He slaps her ass as hard as he can.

She cries out not in pain, but in pleasure.

So, he slaps her ass hard again as she cries out for him to do it over and over again.

And he does.

He caresses her ass where he hit her, to soothe the pain. She’s panting and whimpering into his ear. She lowers her entire body weight against his chest and leans over his shoulder. One hand grasping desperately onto his right shoulder, the other grasping onto his pillow. He slaps her ass one more time and she screams into his pillow, biting it to try to muffle herself as she comes again. The waves of her orgasm feel so fucking good she could cry.

“Lu… Lucy… pusti me na vrh.”

She has no idea what he’s just said, but he’s lifting her up and flips her onto her back. His cock is back in its rightful place in seconds, thrusting in her as he strokes her clit. He drives into her stronger and harder as he comes closer to the edge. Her breasts bounce up and down from the force of his thrusts. She’s come four times already, and she knows that he’s going to fuck her hard until she comes again.

“Za tebe ću učinit bilo što, Lucy.” He grunts, grateful his words are coming out in a language she doesn’t understand.

Lucy takes it as a compliment that he’s lost the English language and can only say – what she imagines is – dirty talk in Croatian to her. She had no idea how sexy it would be to hear a man breathless, gasping for air, saying things to you in another language as he fucks you… makes love to you.

“Plus profond… Garcia…” She returns the favor by telling him to go deeper… in French… using his first name. “Plus fort sur mon clito…”

Garcia understands her and increases his pressure on her clit and the depth of his penetration. She grasps onto his arms and kicks her heel into his ass hard enough that it will leave a bruise. She winces as he stretches her more and more as he penetrates deeper and deeper into her. A tear streams down her temple onto his pillow. She grunts loudly with his every thrust as she feels that she’s about to explode. The pressure is building and building, more intense with every thrust he gives her. She’s in tears. The pleasure, the emotion… the experience of being fucked by Garcia Flynn is almost too much for her to handle.

Then he stops thrusting and places his finger on her lips.

She cries out in frustration.

She was so fucking close.

“Shh…” He kisses her forehead. “Not… yet…”

All she can do is whimper as he removes his fingers from her clit. He continues to slowly thrust his cock in and out of her. She’s lost the ability to speak. She was so close to coming for the fifth time. Something she’s never had happen before. He holds his hand against the side of her torso and gently caresses her skin. He leans down and kisses the side of her face where her tears have fallen.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” He asks, hushed.

She shakes her head as she reaches down between them and starts stroking herself.

“I… I… so close…” She manages to say, her voice quivering. “Please… Garcia…”

Lucy touches his balls gently and he groans. He wants more than anything in this world to properly finish this. To bring her to one more soul changing orgasm, to hear her cry out his name, but… but what does this mean for them? How is this going to change their dynamic? He never intended for this to turn into something that exposed their vulnerability to each other, their souls…

It’s bad enough that both of them have already shed tears in each other’s embrace. And he knows that part of what keeps him ahead of Lucy and her team is his ability to… to keep his feelings for her out of the way. To conceal them from her so that she would never know.

But this, making love to her, means so much to him. He’s concerned that perhaps it might mean nothing to her despite how responsive she’s been to his touch.

This isn’t how he wanted it to be.

They shouldn’t have done this.

They should have waited to see if this was… meant to be.

“I’m sorry, Lucy…” He starts to carefully withdraw from her body. She’s so tight around him that he doesn’t want to hurt her. She presses her heel into him to hold him within her.

“What are you doing?” Her voice breaks.

“I… we… we shouldn’t be doing this.” He’s apologetic.

He watches her as disappointment spreads across her face. She averts her eyes from him and wets her lips. She shakes her head, disagreeing with him. She wants this more than anything. Wants him more than anything.

“Besides… you love Wyatt, don’t you? I mean… he did kiss you when you were with Bonnie and Clyde, right?”

_That should do it. Bring up Wyatt and for sure Lucy will slap you across the face and try to escape._

Lucy shivers and squeezes her eyes shut to keep her tears from falling.

“Tell me, Garcia…” She opens her eyes and locks them with his. “Were you thinking about me or someone else just now…?”

“You.” He answers, confused by her question.

Lucy rolls him onto his back, keeping him inside her as they move. She holds his face in her hand as she leans down and kisses him on the lips.

“And when you first kissed me… who were you thinking about?” She kisses his cheek and the bridge of his nose.

“You.”

“And when you brought me to orgasm… who were you thinking about?” She asks, her voice cracks as she struggles to keep from crying. She kisses his neck. She wants him to understand that what they’re doing means more to her than just sex.

“You.” He answers her question. He shakes his head and stops her from kissing him on the lips again. He holds her chin in his fingertips. “Lucy… what’s your point?”

She thrusts slowly against him with her eyes closed. She bites her lower lip and looks down at him.

“Wyatt kissed me as he was thinking of his…” She hesitates to finish because she’s afraid by saying it that it will remind Garcia of, “… his dead wife.” She places her hands on Garcia’s chest to steady herself as she continues to move against him. “And when I slept with Noah… he was…” She takes in a sharp breath as his cock hits just the right spot within her. He holds his hands on her hips and helps her move on him. “… he was… more concerned about the status of our engagement than he was about being attentive to my…” Garcia strokes her clit. “… my needs…”

“Lucy…” His heart aches for her, this information is not in her journal. He had no idea that the other men in her life weren’t treating her as she should be treated… as their priority, as someone deserving of all their love, attention and respect.

“Garcia…” She looks at him. “… you and I might be… enemies, but…” She grinds against him as her body starts to rebuild toward climax. “… but… with me now… I’m all that matters to you… I’m not… mmmm… I’m not secondary… I’m…”

Garcia runs his hand up her back and holds onto the base of her neck and draws her to him. They might be enemies in this war through time, but somehow, she knows that when he’s with her that she is his priority. Her breasts press against his skin and her hair falls from her shoulders onto him as he kisses her. He opens his mouth to her and their tongues intertwine, circling around each other as the kiss deepens with every thrust of their bodies. He wraps one arm around her lower back as she grinds against him, tugging and pulling his cock in and out of her as his other hand continues to stroke her clit. He gasps, opening his mouth wide as they kiss. His cock twitches inside her and it’s like an electric shock.

“Lu… Lu… Lucy… I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”

Lucy kisses his jaw as she whispers to him, “and what if I told you… not… yet…?”

Her breath is hot on his ear and that is enough to push him over the edge. He buries his face in the crook of her neck to muffle his cries as he raises his hips – and Lucy – off the mattress as he spills into her. Lucy sits up tall on him and rests her hands on his chest, caressing her fingers over his erect nipples as he rides out the waves of his orgasm. She continues to thrust against him and once he’s somewhat coherent, he continues stroking her clit.

Now it’s all about Lucy, bringing her to her fifth and final climax.

“Mmmm… speak to me in Croatian…” She says as she arches her back so that his still hard cock might just hit that sweet spot inside her again.

“Sada znam da te volim, Lucy.” He whispers breathlessly.

Lucy moans in response to his words. They are foreign to her, but hearing him speak his mother tongue is so very, very erotic. His voice is deeper as he speaks to her in Croatian, and rough. So very, very masculine. She wonders if he might be able to get her off just by whispering dirty nothings into her ear without touching her at all.

_There’s always another place and another time to try that…_

“Nadam se da ćeš me jednog dana voljeti. Ali razumijem ako ne želiš.” He tells her that he hopes one day she will love him, but understands if she does not want that. He reaches up and caresses her jaw and wipes a tear from her face. “Zaljubljen sam u tebe… Ti si moja sreća… moja draga… moja ljubav…”  

_I’m so sorry if I ever hurt you…_

Lucy first feels her orgasm begin in her gut and it rises up through her chest, reaching her mouth and she cries out as the tension drops and her walls crash down around him. Pulsating, contracting, throbbing against his cock.

She throws her head back and he has to grab her, holding onto her lower back so she doesn’t fall back on the mattress. She continues to thrust against him as fast and as hard as she can as she rides out the almost painful waves of pleasure that radiate throughout her body. She throws herself forward, collapsing against him. Her head rests on his chest. She can barely breathe and when she does, she breathes hard. She whimpers and cries, and her tears fall onto his chest.

Garcia caresses his fingers up and down her back to help her come down from her high. Her body trembles against him and though she’s still, her body shudders through yet another orgasm. He feels her walls throb around his cock which is still deep inside her. She claws her fingernails into his chest and bites the flesh of his chest with her lips as she cries out again. With his other hand he holds onto the back of her head and weaves his fingers into her hair. She clings onto him as if she never wants to let him go. She is trying to speak to him but can only stutter incoherent sounds as she cries. He tilts his head forward and kisses the top of her head.

“Shh…” He whispers to her, “shh…”

He can feel her heartbeat pounding against his chest as she moves her hand up to finger the short hairs at the base of his neck. She finds the strength to lift her head. She looks at him, her eyes red and tears still streaming down her face. No words need to be said between them for them both to know this was the most spiritual experience either of them has had with another human being. Lucy moves her hand to cup his jaw and she moves her thumb against his stubble, staring into his eyes.

Garcia gently holds Lucy in his arm as he glides out of her. He supports her as he rolls her onto her back and spoons up next to her, brushing her wet hair from her forehead. He leans down and kisses her, slowly opening his mouth to her, stroking her tongue with his own. Deeper and deeper they explore how erotic a simple kiss can be. He drapes his leg over hers and his hand gets lost in her hair, as her fingertips lightly brush over the hair on his chest. He sucks on her bottom lip and gently bites it before plunging his tongue slowly back into her mouth.

Lucy presses her body against his. Wanting and needing to feel him as close to her heart as possible. Before they began, she only intended to fuck him to get her anger toward him out of her system. She didn’t want or expect this to turn into what it’s become… a connection of souls… a religious experience… a sensual exploration of a connection that the two of them share that has yet to be defined. Whatever it was that they experienced together she knows that things between them will never be as they were before Derek left this room and closed the door behind him.

Whatever Garcia Flynn plans to do with her as long as she’s here as his prisoner, she inherently trusts him. She feels him stroke her between her legs again and her body startles. She pulls away from him and strokes his jaw.

“Don’t… I’m… I’m too sensitive… it hurts.” She whispers.

He stops stroking her and spreads his palm out to cover her center instead. He doesn’t move it against her, just applies soft pressure. His hand is warm and feels good touching her in her most intimate area. She sighs and nestles against his body, resting her head against his chest. She can hear his heartbeat and feels the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. As she continues to come down off of her own sequence of orgasms, her breathing matches his until they feel that both their hearts and breaths are in tandem.

Lucy lifts her head and kisses his cheek, and she shakes her head and chuckles at herself inside her mind. She just made love to Garcia Flynn. The man that everyone calls a terrorist and a traitor. The man she once viewed as a monster who murdered his family, but he is anything but those things. She may have connected with him on a spiritual level tonight, but she still doesn’t know everything about him. He’s still a mystery.

She knows that despite what happened between them tonight, that once he leaves this room and returns to his men that he will change back to the man they expect him to be. Their leader. A man who wouldn’t show this much care, love and respect for her since she’s supposed to be his enemy. But no matter what he will say to her, and no matter what he’ll do to her, she knows. She knows that this man cares for her in ways that no one has ever cared or even loved her before.

Lucy untangles herself from his embrace and sits on the edge of the mattress. She feels his eyes watching her and that makes her heart flutter. And for just a moment she gives thought to the idea that maybe she wants to stay here with him. To join him in his fight against Rittenhouse. To abandon her team at Mason Industries. But she can’t do that. Her team needs her and she thinks that maybe she might be able to convince them that Garcia Flynn is on the right side of this fight.

She hears him move and glances back just as he’s withdrawing his hand from reaching out to touch her.

He wanted to reach out to touch her. To make sure that she is all right. But he stopped himself. He knows that neither one of them can allow what happened between them to change their dynamic.

Lucy’s still assigned to chase after him, and her teammate to kill him. He knows that she still wants to return to Wyatt and Rufus as she must still trust them more than she trusts him. He knows that he has to bury his feelings for her if he’s going to be effective against Lucy and her team should she escape – and he has no doubt that she will. And he knows, goddammit he knows, that one day she’ll break his heart and choose Wyatt. Of course, it’s possible that might not happen. The journal wasn’t written in stone and seems to lose its value after each trip.

In the journal, he and Lucy didn’t do this until a couple years from now. But does that, does any of what is in the journal even matter anymore. Will she escape from him in Chicago or will she decide to stay with him? He doesn’t know.

He still kidnapped her.

He knows that Lucy isn’t thrilled with being held captive.

But he still wants her to see how bad Rittenhouse is.

He’s still angry with her for stopping him from destroying Rittenhouse once and for all.

But what he said to her in Croatian… he can’t deny what he said is true. That he’s in love with her. That she is his happiness. Those things he said to her in Croatian so she wouldn’t know or understand him. He can’t let her know that she’s the one thing that he could never hate since he lost his family.

Nothing will ever change that.

She is his world.

His everything.

He watches silently as Lucy stands up and walks naked across the room. He wishes things were different. He wishes that she wanted to stay here with him. To join his team now. To help him destroy Rittenhouse, so they could stop them together as she said they did in her journal.

Lucy takes a hand towel from the rim of the sink and cleans his cum from the inside of her thighs. She looks around the room and spots a couple blankets on one of the tables. She brings them back to him and kneels in front of him on the mattress.

He raises his brow.

“It’s messy.” She explains. “We can cover it up with this blanket and keep warm with the other.” She tells him also letting him know that she wants to sleep at his side tonight.

He nods his head and helps her lay a blanket out over the mess they made. He lies down and she crawls into his arms. She tucks herself underneath his arm and drapes her arm across his chest as he gently runs his fingers across her arm.

“This ends tomorrow, you know.” She whispers, wishing it weren’t true.

_Look at how far we’ve come. Do we have to pretend this never happened?_

“I know.”

“I understand that you’ll need to be an asshole again.” She nuzzles her head against him, wishing they could lay like this forever. “It can’t be easy keeping your men in check if they know that you and I… you know.”

He nods his head and raises his brow.

“I’m pretty sure they heard us, Lucy.” He licks his bottom lip. “I apologize for that. I didn’t mean to…”

“I’m glad that you did.”

He chuckles softly and wraps his arm around her head, he kisses her forehead.

“If I’m being honest, Karl’s the only jerk that I trust of the group… and with you, Lucy… I promise you that I’ll always be honest with you.”

Lucy is quiet, lost in thought.

“Do I…” She hesitates, unsure if she wants to know the answer to her question. “… do I fall in love with you?”

Garcia raises his brow and looks down at her. He gives her a weak smile and answers.

“I don’t know.” He looks down at her and sees longing in her eyes. “The journal says something… but I’ve learned that the journal isn’t always… accurate. So, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

Lucy curls into him and closes her eyes. She figures that’s the best answer she’ll get from him on the subject. And she’s sure she already knows the answer to her question based on how she feels right now, wrapped in his arms. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep and when she wakes up in the morning, she is alone.

She sits up and finds a burgundy dress has been set out for her on the end of the mattress.

She gets up, washes herself off with another wet hand towel, and gets changed into the dress. It fits perfectly. She found a box by the sink with earrings and other accessories that fit beautifully with the dress Garcia chose for her to wear. She stands in front of the mirror and does her hair as best she can. It’s messy, but she thinks it looks good.

The door to the room flies open and Karl marches up to her and grabs onto her arm.

“Bossman says it’s time to go.” He says.

Karl holds onto her arm hard enough that she’s sure he’ll leave a bruise, the bastard. She struggles against him as he drags her down the hallway toward the stolen Mothership. Garcia stands there, smug as a son-of-a-bitch, and watches her as she finally shakes free of Karl’s grip. Their eyes meet and for a second, she sees the soft hazel-green eyes of the man who loved her last night. He blinks and it’s gone. He’s back to pretending that last night didn’t happen, at least for the benefit of his henchmen who somehow seem to not have a clue.

“Ever wanted to visit the Chicago World’s Fair, Lucy?” He asks as he places a black Edwardian bowler hat atop his head.

And now that she knows where they are headed, she’s back to worrying about what Garcia Flynn is going to do to burn history to the ground all in the name of destroying Rittenhouse. She no longer fears him after last night. She knows he will never hurt her. But she does fear who he might kill, or what he might destroy that could drastically change the outcome of history when they return to the present.

He steps toward her and as cocky as a smug son-of-a-bitch, he offers her his arm to escort her onto the Mothership. She scowls at him as he winks at her. A knowing wink, to let her know that his attitude and smugness towards her is a show for his men.

She plays along.

“And if I refuse to step _yet_ another foot in that machine?” She asks, staring Garcia in his eyes.

Karl raises his eyebrow and shoots Flynn a look. There’s something going on here that isn’t… that feels different than the last he saw them interact.

Garcia feels blood shoot between his legs at her use of the word “yet.” It’s too soon after last night’s activities for him not to associate it with wanting to delay her orgasm. That word arouses him ever so slightly. He looks at Lucy and sees she’s trying to conceal a smile and he wonders if last night really was the first and the last time that they’d be together as man and woman, or if perhaps… He wets his lips and smiles at her. He pauses for only a moment before looking at Karl and nodding his head, giving him a silent order.

Karl grabs onto Lucy’s arm and drags her up the ladder. He forces her to take a seat as he starts to try to buckle her in. Lucy swats at his hands, not needing his – or anyone’s – help.

Garcia joins them, amused at the sight of his tiny historian swatting at Karl.

“I’m sure the lady is quite capable of buckling her own seatbelt, Karl.” Garcia says, in support of Lucy.

Lucy shoos Karl away as she buckles herself in. She looks at Garcia from lowered eyes and smiles.

Karl is not amused that Flynn is allowing Lucy this sense of freedom.

_What the fuck?_

And then Karl sees it.

He freaking catches Flynn looking at Lucy with puppy love adoration in his eyes, looking like a mother fucking fool, completely smitten over her. _Oh, fuck me._ Karl shakes his head in disbelief. _This asshole is falling for her. This isn’t going to end well for anyone. And I’ll probably have to fucking chaperone him._ Karl glares at Flynn until his boss notices and feigns that he had always been scowling instead of throwing heart-eyes at Lucy. Karl shakes his head in disgust.

_Mother fucking Flynn, what a stupid son-of-a-bitch._

Anthony Bruhl cautiously joins them and nods his head at Lucy to acknowledge her presence here even if he doesn’t agree with the fact that Garcia kidnapped her. Karl closes the hatch to the machine and sits back, closing his eyes. He hates time travel, and he hates how it makes him feel sick after every goddamn jump.

_Maybe it is a good thing that that idiot is falling for her._

_Maybe if she falls for him, he’ll give up and we can all get back to our normal lives._

With Anthony focused on piloting the machine back to 1893, and Karl preparing for time travel with his eyes closed, Garcia leans forward and places his hand on Lucy’s knee and gives her a smile to let her know that yes, he’s going to do his best to be a jerk towards her to keep up appearances, but that he wants her to know that things have changed between them and that there’s no going back to how things were before last night. Lucy nods her head and places her hand on his, assuring him that she understands.

The Mothership whirrs and flashes, and disappears to Chicago, 1893.

And yes… the night before they attended the Houdini magic show, and before Flynn was to attempt blowing up Thomas Edison, Henry Ford, and J.P. Morgan… Lucy let him know her desire for at least one more night with him by enticing him with the word “yet.”

They rid themselves of Karl as soon as they could, booking two rooms in a local hotel instead of one. Neither of them believing that Karl was quick enough to pick up on the fact that they were using the word “yet” as a keyword for “let’s go make love.”

Only…

Karl had it figured out from the first usage back at the abandoned church headquarters in Sacramento before any of them had even stepped foot in the Mothership to travel back to 1893.


End file.
